Echoes of Your Words
by AlQaholic
Summary: Two enemies on different sides of the war cross paths. Could this lead to more than just endless bloodshed? (This story is a branching adaptation of the For Honor universe) ***Rating Subject to Change***


It was supposed to be an easy scouting mission. A quick excursion into the woods.

"Be back before nightfall."

"Sure thing." the Warden said before heading off.

But that wasn't what he got.

Armed with his trusty longsword, the Warden, known only to his allies as Meric, trekked far and wide throughout a mountainous forest. He gripped the blade above the crossguard and let it rest alongside his hip. The cold steel liked to glisten in the sunlight, and as he walked, he could feel every ounce of the weapon weighing his arm down. The weight gave him confidence. Hopefully, if everything went well, he wouldn't have to use it. He'd been sent out here alone, and ending up wounded and bleeding in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly on his long list of things to do.

The knight exhaled - the frigid nordic air was bracing in its own way but not so much everything else. The cold tendrils of the north liked to creep their way past his armor and chill it through all the way to the man's skin, rattling his bones and wracking them with an uncomfortable pain. Plates of armor could protect him against steel and iron, but not against the harsh weather of the far north. He hated it up here. Unfortunately, for the Knights of Valiant, the war had been brought further up towards the outskirts of Valkenheim, a bleak and unforgiving wasteland, home to ferocious beasts as well as savage vikings.

The war had only just begun, two seasons was all it'd been so far, and yet Meric already wanted it to end. Maybe that was too much to ask, but then that would mean he wouldn't have to be rummaging around in a shivering forest looking for a settlement of crazed barbarians. On the bright side, the viking threat had put an end to the hostilities between many of the warring legions and united them under a common banner and a common name. Even so, the war with the vikings had been nothing but a miserable slugfest ever since the knights had pushed them back into their freezing homeland. They were dug in well, and they knew the terrain better than any invader did. Much worse was the fact that summer had turned to fall, and winter was already fast approaching. The vikings knew they only had to bide their time until the first snow. If they managed to survive until then, who knew how long the war would drag on?

Meric glanced up. The warmth of a rising sun filtered throughout the forest, lifting the land from its cold slumber. He'd been walking for quite a while, staring aimlessly at the stone-cold ground. The road was rougher now, and the cobblestone path he'd been walking on had given way to dirt trails framed by shady trees. He imagined the pathway being up to his knees in snow in a few months. An icy hell was what this land was going to turn into. Fortunately, the only snow around was on Mount Freydis which loomed ominously overhead, it's large jagged peaks casting long, sinister shadows over the landscape. Supposedly there was a viking settlement on the other side of the mountain where all the raiders that were giving his unit trouble were coming from, and it was his job to scout it out. As far as he could tell, the path he was on seemed to be headed in the proper direction. If Meric was correct, it would hug the side of the mountain and lead him right to his unholy destination.

Normally such lengthy scouting missions would've left the knight burnt out and bleary-eyed but not anymore. Had the war started several years earlier, it would've been a different story, but now he could no longer feel the weight of his armor on his shoulders as he did when he was a fresh recruit. The darkened armor, coal-colored like a shadow, had managed to shade him from even the mightiest of blows in his younger days. He still remembered joining the Ravenheart Legion all those years ago. No amount of blood or sweat expended in the training ground could've prepared him for the shock of the battlefield. It was nothing at all like sparring in the castle courtyard of Summerwind Keep. Frankly, he was still amazed he ever made it through the first hour, nevermind the first day. . . But that time had long past. Things were different now. He was stronger. Much stronger. For the most part, Meric could take care of himself during battle, although every now and then one of his enemies would still surprise him. He had long outgrown fighting against the average grunt. Practice was practice, but it no longer pleased him or brought him satisfaction.

Unlike many of the other legions in the Knights of Valiant, the Ravenhearts were one of the more powerful and respected, well-known for forging formidable knights of strength and character. It wasn't unsurprising then that his legion had been assigned to the western area of Valkenheim. Progress on that front had stalled, and the Ravenhearts were there to fix it. The solution was fairly simple. If they got rid of the viking outpost plaguing the region then they could advance deeper into the heart of the land and cut the head off Valkenheim's vile snake, killing the nordic war machine ending the war in a single, swift blow. It was a brilliant strategy, and Meric would ensure it's success by returning with his report later in the afternoon.

Or evening... It seemed as though he'd been walking for ages.

The man had his own reasons for sticking with the Ravenhearts and joining in the war effort. All knights did. To see all the legions working together - something Meric thought he would never live to see the light of day - was part of it, but unlike other past wars that had plagued Ashfeld, this one at least had somewhat of a purpose. One that was strong enough to unify the entire region.

It was only once the Nordic army had gathered on the borders of Ashfeld that vikings came to the attention of the High Council - the land's administrative circle with representatives from every legion. Peacekeepers were dispatched, and it was obvious by the size of their gathering force that they planned to strike while the legions were weak and divided by petty wars and frivolous squabbles. It was too late by the time their intentions were discovered. The element of surprise was on their side, and they got rather far on that alone. In a mere season, the vikings had nearly conquered half of Ashfeld in their quest for resources, and it looked as though things were coming to an end... until the Knights of Valiant was formed.

They pushed the viking menace back, and now the war continues to rage, deadlocked on the outskirts of Valkenheim as the unified knights had reclaimed their lost territory.

All the while, one Ravenheart had been fighting his way to victory on the battlefield. He was beginning to tire of human nature and its affinity for bloodshed. Part of him wished he could snap his fingers and make it all disappear.

Meric curiously glanced up again. Mount Freydis had gotten bigger. That was a good sign... The long peaks reminded him of how he used to climb in his youth. Big hills. Small hills. There was little better than the wind in your hair and the thought of death as you looked down from the top of the world. Sure, it was always lonely at the top, but the view never ceased to impress him if naught else. He preferred the quiet anyway. It was easier to think with no one up there to bother him.

The woods were eeriely quiet as Meric made his way down the middle of the path.

The Warden continued to walk. He'd almost let his gaze fall to his feet when a flash of white light caught his attention in the serenity of the forest. He darted his eyes but had already lost track of where the light came from.

 _Glint?_

The knight's blood ran cold.

There _was no_ glint in the forest.

In the blink of an eye, Meric spied something unseen slipping between the shadows of the bush. There was a short rustling in the thickets before a Valkyrie's bloodcurdling war cry shattered the air from the edge of the path and sent fear shooting through Meric's veins like liquid electricity. He had no time to react. The forest echoed with the rush of footsteps as an unseen Valkyrie burst from the thickets and lunged the knight. With great spead and strength, the viking brought her dane axe overhead, smashing it down into a thunderous clash of steel as Meric narrowly brought his weapon to bear and deflected the blow with his longsword, causing sparks to fly.

The Valkyrie realized her attack had failed, and for a moment, surprise flickered across her eyes. This moment was long enough to distract her. In a quick burst of strength, Meric growled and ruthlessly shoved the viking back with the broad side of his weapon. Stunned, the viking reeled backwards from the sheer force of the push. She staggered back several feet before coming to a stop a safe distance away from the knight. She'd lost the element of surprise, and just like that, their bout was over as quick as it began.

"Valkyrie..." Meric said with scorn.

The viking spied the purple insignia on Meric's shoulder plate - a raven with its wings spread and the talons clasped around a bundle of arrows. She snorted and said, "You're a long way from home, _Ravenheart_... Was the land of Ashfeld not good enough for you?"

Meric glared through his visor. " Only the weak resort to ambushes. It's a shame, really - I would've expected a bit more integrity from my enemies. There's no honor in such attacks."

"Honor...? Who are you to speak of honor...?" the viking snarled. She planted her axe on the ground and pointed a finger at the knight. "You know nothing of it... How could you? The Knights of Valiant have invaded my homeland and murdered my people. You deserve to be cut down where you stand!"

Meric stepped forward and rested the longsword over his shoulder. He was unamused by her accusations. "This is _war_ , and your kind have no concept of surrender. We kill only those who continue to fight."

"Lies! The Knights of Valiant have no bounds. You fight for land and nothing more." the Valkyrie sneered. She began tracing a slow path around the knight. She wanted little other than to split open his skull with the head of her axe. "My people are starving while yours feast and you expect us to lie down and die?" the viking seethed in white hot anger.

"Attacking another kingdom is not the answer! Surrender now and I will spare you life!" Meric warned.

"Surrender?" The woman gripped her axe tightly. "You think I'm just going to let you walk away?"

"That'd be the wise thing to do." Meric stated as he readied his weapon. The longsword's handle was cold but reassuring in his grasp.

"Well, here we are..." the viking breathed, "If your looking for peace, you won't find it from me. No... I've devoted my life to battle, and battle it shall be!"

"Then die like the rest!" Meric yelled in a booming voice. But his words had little time to sink in.

Meric's years of training and experience came to life as he swung his longsword at the Valkyrie and heaved the blade with his entire body in a furious sweep. The longsword cut across the air, missing the viking by mere centimeters as she jumped back, but the knight followed through and brought his blade back around for another strike. He swung again, but the viking jumped back once more, quicker than Meric and easily managing to stay out of reach of the knight's blade. Meric started to wind up again. He was cut short when the Valkyrie raised her leg and kicked the knight back, nearly knocking the man off his feet.

In a flash of speed, the Valkyrie caught up to him and seized her chance. While the man was still recovering, she raised her weapon, aimed for the killing blow, and swung overhead with all her might. Meric, still floundering from the kick, saw it coming from the edges of his vision. It was as he feared. His opponent was better than he thought. Normally, under other circumstances where his life wasn't in danger, that would've been a gratifying thought to duel a worthy challenger, although right now it only seemed to make his blood surge at a million miles per minute. This was battle. And this was real. Snapping to his senses, the knight regained his balance and dug his feet into the dirt. One hand on the blade and the other on the hilt, Meric blocked the overhead by holding his longsword horizontally.

The axe glanced off the broad side of the longsword and sparks of blue energy shot out like lightning. The Valkyrie was now within weapon's reach. In one smooth movement, Meric returned both hands to the hilt of his weapon and slashed the blade across in a long, sweeping attack. She couldn't jump out of the way! Bending backwards, the Valkyrie was caught off guard as Meric's longsword whizzed by, clipping her cheek and drawing blood as she narrowly avoided the full wrath of the attack by the skin of her teeth.

Meric's longsword continued to hum past, the tip of the blade now splashed red with blood.

The astonished viking rubbed her cheek. She spied the blood on her hand and then directed her attention towards Meric. "You'll die for that!" she shouted in Icelandic.

Meric pressured her further, continuing the attack with several vicious strikes but the Valkyrie was ready for them. She dodged and weaved, easily evading every one of the attacks with superior tact and footwork. The Valkyrie's armor, composed of lightweight leather and a scarce amount of metal, allowed for speed and grace that Meric would dare not match. He kept attacking anyway, getting nowhere with his flurries of swings and earning a gashed shoulder to boot, but it did buy him time to look for an achilles heel of some sort. The blood on his arm tracked its way down the shoulderpad. In his futile effort, he realized battle could only last for so long. If he didn't do something about it, she would outlast him and cut him down when he was weak. But he couldn't win through straightforward attacks. She was too fast - reading his every move which he blatantly telegraphed with his posturing and relatively sluggish weapon.

The two warriors continued to fight within the bounds of the dirt trail, parrying and countering each other's moves. They exchanged blows, some nearly hitting from time to time, others being blocked or missing entirely. The battle looked like it could go either way.

Meric growled as the Valkyrie leapt backwards and avoided another one of his swings. "Stand and fight, _viking!_ You can't run forever!"

It was just then, when nearly all hope had been lost, that the knight saw it.

The needle in the haystack. The one crucial thing he would need to tip the scales in his favor.

To any other person it would've been nothing, an obscure clue forever lost to the heat of battle, but to Meric it was all he needed to secure his indomitable victory. His years of experience had trained him to look for it with an eye sharper than any blade. It was everything in battle. Or it was nothing for those that could not see it in time to protect themselves.

Meric attacked again to make sure he had seen it right - he couldn't be too careful with a fighter of such caliber. Much to his relief, a second, prodding attack confirmed his suspicion. He'd been analyzing her fighting style ever the since the battle began. Her defense was good, damn near impenetrable even, but even the best weren't perfect. With every attack, there was just the slightest hesitation of her movements when she evaded. He was willing to bet she'd grown complacent from his sluggish swings and relatively heavy armor. . . Yes. That was it. He had it now.

Meric grinned from behind his barbuta.

It was time to turn up the the pressure.

He knew what he had to do, but he would only have one chance before she caught on. Meric bided his time, passing the battle with meaningless prodding and empty attacks, waiting for that perfect moment to strike. He would not squander his winning play, and he knew the Valkyrie would not attack seriously either as she was biding her time as well, waiting for the knight to grow weak from exhaustion. He knew she would make a mistake. One mistake could change the tide of battle.

And then finally it happened.

In the middle of combat, the Valkyrie strayed a little too close to the knight, not so far as to be unreachable but just within the effective range of the longsword. Meric saw his chance and acted quickly. His window was short. He had to do it now!

Meric ignited his attack, an attack he'd replayed a thousand times over in his head to perfection. He began to turn, twisting to his side, shifting his feet, and winding up for a heavy swing from the left. The Valkyrie prepared herself, having seen this attack before and evaded it just as often as she'd seen it, but then Meric stopped, halfway done with the full motion. It was a ploy! She realized too late what was happening. The knight gathered every iota of strength he could muster. With lightning speed, he spun around and attacked from the other side. Putting his back into it, the man drove the blade, whipping it through the air as fast as he physically could and causing the air to hum and sing as it rocketed towards the viking. The Valkyrie tried to spring backwards, but it didn't matter at this point. There was little she could do. She couldn't avoid the strike entirely, and the longsword cut across her vision, connecting with the dane axe and severing the head of her weapon from its body like it was paper.

It was over.

 _He_ had won.

The head of the axe hit the ground with a dreadful thud. A harrowing shiver shot throughout the viking's body, and she felt her stomach churn. No... No, it couldn't be. It'd been no more than a second, but that second was enough to cost her the entire fight. She'd lost the battle in pursuit of the war. It was as if everything she'd done throughout the fight hadn't mattered at all.

The next few seconds could only move in slow motion.

She couldn't run. She wasn't allowed to run.

The Valkyrie grimaced, turning her head the other way as the Warden effortlessly raised his sword and pressed it against the woman's throat with a single hand. The knight was grinning behind his helmet. Of course, there was nothing more pleasing than the smell of power or the rush of victory, was there? No... He'd fought for this. He'd earned this. The taste was always sweet and divine, but the stakes had made it that much better. And now... Meric thought to himself... she was at his complete mercy.

"Yield." he commanded.

The Valkyrie did as asked and crumbled to her knees, all the while Meric kept the tip of his blade pointed at her neck. "Valhalla..." she spoke softly... _grimly_.

She shut her eyes tight and let her head fall in defeat. This was the final battle. The ultimate one that all warriors, strong or weak, had to fight in order to be at peace. It was nothing at all like she'd thought it would be. Everything you do, everything you accomplish in life... it doesn't really prepare you for all the emotions or the regrets, does it? In the waning time she had left, she realized it was only a matter of time before it happened. Death was not something she'd expected to come so soon, but here it was, dark, ominous, and ready to swallow her up like a monster from the shadows. She just had to close her eyes and wait.

The Valkyrie's heart pounded in her chest.

A long silence stretched between the viking and the knight. The Valkyrie felt its heavy weight on her shoulders. She sat there in the still air for what seemed like a long while, awaiting her swift death, but it never came... When she was sure it wasn't going to, she opened her eyes and looked up at the Warden through her faceplate - a helmet adorned with two angelic wings on both sides.

The knight was staring into the sky.

"Knight of Ravenheart...?" she said in a low voice. A flicker of respect crossed the woman's words.

Meric looked down from the ocean of blue, the sound of the Valkyrie's speech pulling him from his web of thoughts. "Meric." he replied, planting his sword in the ground. "My name is Meric..."

The knight extended his arm and offered a hand to his defeated adversary. She was confused, but took is hand anyway, and the knight helped her up with a hefty pull. He was taller, though they nearly stood eye-to-eye.

"I'm not sure I understand." she said to him. "Why did you spare my life?" You could've killed me just now."

A puzzled look washed over the knight's face. If he had taken his helmet off, she would've seen it clearly. "Is that what you want?"

The viking hesistated. "Well... no..." she struggled, "but I have my oaths as do you, Warden. A Valkyrie is sworn to die on the battlefield if defeated."

"I don't believe I defeated you. _Outmaneuvered_ , I would say." Crossing his arms, Meric continued, saying, "You have some skill, _Valkyrie_. I'd hate to kill you. What's your name?"

"Astrid. Of the Warborn." she replied.

" _Astrid_... I like that..." the man remarked. Behind that helmet of his, a slight smile had unknowingly curved its way onto his lips. The rush of battle had faded, but he could still feel its remnants coursing through his veins. He turned to leave, revealing his blood-stained shoulder as he did so. "I've given you your life today, Valkyrie, but I'm keeping the scar." the knight said, looking rearward, "This is where we part ways, but should we meet again, I want you to know this... The next time we meet, _I won't be holding back."_

Astrid clenched her fist. "Neither will I..." she insisted. "It's a small world, Meric. We're going to cross paths again."

Meric smirked roguishly. "I look forward to it."

And with that, the knight began walking as he had been. Eventually, the sound of his footsteps faded and so did the sight of his characteristic shadowed armor. She'd blinked and the man was gone, like he was never there at all.

Astrid touched her cheek.

She wondered when their next meeting would be. If ever.


End file.
